ARROCHIM

My name is Arrochim

I am a white line

I make my cures

With perseverance

I bring my line

To open this bench

The table well made firm

On the cross that is centered

I am a pure oil

Of colors and of rays

The sound and the ivory

Open my path

I come from the astral

To fulfill a promise

To help these people

To do what is asked

I come from far away

From the center of the forest

I stir the vital energy

Of this Planet

I asked permission

From the Celestial Father

To bring the cure

Of the Vegetable Kingdom

I arrived on the plateau

Called and sent

But I am giving warning already

That I do not take away sins

Illness is punishment

For something done wrong

I can only work

On the humbled man

Make yourself very small

Kneel on the ground

Look well on high

And ask for Your forgiveness

Then ask of me

For I send my soldiers

If God gives me leave

I take away these illnesses